Braided
by Amber Penglass
Summary: Outnumbered and outgunned, Duo is unexpectedly rescued by another braided fighter for peace. Eight years later, Duo's at a coffee shop, and spies a familiar braid... Braided people stick together, after all.


_**Braided**_

_Amber Penglass_

**Chapter I**

**Note: The first review I received on this fic was a (mild) flame. Please, everyone, read it. Why? The writer blatantly stated she had only read the first five lines. Read the whole thing before developing an opinion. If you still don't like it that is perfectly fine. But at least have the decency to read it all before bothering to comment. **

**For the record, why would any sane person fantasize about running around a battlefield? But oh, she didn't read the whole thing, so she wouldn't have known that bit...**

**End rant. **

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It was a voice he hadn't heard in eight years. And even then, he could be wrong- he'd only heard two sentences from her last time they'd met. Nevertheless, when he turned in his seat at the quiet corner coffeehouse, he couldn't help the blink of surprise he laid eyes on the back that was turned to him.

It wasn't the back itself that was so intriguing. Rather, it was the long blonde braid that lay down that back. As he looked, she threw her head back and laughed at something her brunette companion had said, turning with her friend to peruse the coffee menu hung above and behind the counter.

Her profile was the same. Softer, older- she had put on some weight, but otherwise it was the same. She turned a bit more towards him, picking up a logo-ed mug from one of the stands, and a shard of dying sunlight lanced in through the window behind him to glance off green eyes.

It was her.

But it wasn't just smug pleasure and a no little bit of excitement that filled his belly at the sight of her. There was also a curious confusion as to why there was a sudden nervousness and apprehension making him sit so still.

Then again, it wasn't every day he ran a girl –woman, now- who resembled a potential former-cheerleader-soccer-mom that had saved his life eight years ago…

Eight Years Ago

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The explosion was close enough that Duo felt Deathscythe shudder, and he renewed his grip on his controls to keep the giant mecha from tumbling over.

"Damnit," he grunted. "We're getting our asses handed to us, guys!" He shouted into the comm., not really expecting an answer; three of the five well-known Gundam profiles were illuminated on the screens surrounding him, and all three of them were under fire from cannons and ground forces just as heavily as he was. "And not even by anyone we would expect…" he muttered, scowling at his screens; it wasn't mobile suits or fellow Gundams that were giving them such hard time, no- it was cannons. Stupid beam cannons! Some schmuck had come up with the brilliant idea to coat high intensity beam cannons with gundamium. Thick gundamium.

"We have to fall back, or we'll be destroyed for sure!" Quatre responded. "Duo, Trowa, get back! My Sandrock's the least damaged, I'll cover your retreat-"

"We won't get half a kilometer with that thing up there." Trowa interrupted.

Unwillingly, Duo's gaze flicked to a screen to his right, the one showing him images of a massive stone and concrete tower, atop which the largest cannon of all rained down on them. The remnants of a large executive building to their right shielded them from the worst of the shots, but as soon as they left its shadow, they'd be obliterated. Their mission, to destroy the White Fang's (until recently) secret giant beam cannon, had become not just a mission but a matter of survival.

"Well we're not having much luck getting half a kilometer _closer_!" Duo shouted as he raised his right arm to shield himself from another barrage from one of the smaller beam cannons that had risen from beneath trees and shrubs the moment they three had shown themselves. True to his statement, Sandrock, Heavyarms, and Deathscythe hadn't been able to get a step closer to the tower since they'd landed, they'd been under such heavy fire.

The remnants the first batch of mobile suits that had attacked them –old modeled Ares- littered the broad city street, and Duo grabbed onto a dismembered leg (arm?) and swung it in a vicious arc, letting it loose at the most opportune moment. It sailed into one of the canons, knocking it off kilter; its shots went wild, its sensors damaged. Duo's jaw dropped- he hadn't expected the blow to really do anything…

Heavyarms moved in, taking advantage of the opening before Duo could, firing into the tear in the armor that the blow had left. With a spectacular rain of sparks and fire, the thing exploded from the inside. The shell itself remained relatively intact, but the inside was fried.

With a few keystrokes, Duo set a program to scanning the remnants of the cannon; had there been a weak point they'd missed?

Another explosion, larger than the last, knocked him against his seat restraints, and he cursed as he felt the deep bruises compacting the flesh of his shoulders. If he made it out alive, though, he'd be grateful that all he'd sustained thus far were bruises… He looked up in time to see, high above, another ship release its payload, and he had a bare second to kneel down, the hulk of gundanium joints groaning as more explosions decimated what had been left of the pavement around him. A barrage of bullets, thick enough to be mistaken for an oddly colored beam, launched upwards into the air, and Heavyarms moved into Duo's view before him. Beyond the city limits, the bomber smoked, flamed, and fell from the sky.

"Would you drop the ballet routine and help us out?" Trowa's voice held the barest suggestion of annoyance. Mobile suits had also been released from the carrier; they'd hovered in wait until the bombs had done their job, and now they were descending, fast.

But Duo was distracted as his suit rose, albeit with some small bit of a struggle- from the rubble. If they could just take out those cannons, they would stand a hell of a lot better chance getting out of here. His scythe swung in all directions, blocking beam shots, shells launched from nearby buildings, and decapitating the first of the Ares suits that came too close-

Then he spied it.

Surprise, and no little bit of curiosity, caused him to almost miss a missile launched at his suit's head. He sliced the sluggish thing out of the air, and turned half a quarter to let the worst of the detonation fall harmlessly on Deathscythe's back.

He could have imagined it.

But he didn't.

He whirled the scythe over his head, bringing it down and around to slice and dice two oncoming suits, one behind and one to the side. Their top halves fell with twin puffing explosions. Duo was moving before they had hit the ground.

He didn't imagine it, but of course it couldn't be what he thought it was…no one was that stupid…

But there it was again, a flash of gold weaving, running, diving, rolling between piles of destroyed suits, rubble, chunks of fallen walls and scaffolding… A glimpse of a long, thick blonde braid.

"You stupid idiot!" Duo shouted half to himself, knowing that the single refugee wouldn't hear him. With a growl he launched himself several stories into the air, coming down hard enough to shake the earth in front of where he'd last seen the golden blur, decapitating yet another suit and slicing its legs out form underneath it as he landed. He turned, peering down into the rubble behind him, zooming in the screen in front of him, and his jaw dropped. From behind an Ares head, a pair of serious green eyes peered back at him. Then there was a flash of teeth and lips, a golden blur, and she was off again, keeping for the most part of sight.

"Hey!" Duo shouted. "Get back here! You're gonna get killed, lady!" He didn't dare broadcast his shout; he didn't want to alert the enemy suits to her presence. With a growl, he covered the distance her full-out sprint had taken her in half a step, pirouetting to fire his sole gun weapon at a down-swooping suit. It exploded midair, and for a moment he was afraid that the girl would be crushed by the falling debris; but when the dust cleared, he saw her emerge from beneath a thick panel of his armor that had been, at some point, peeled back from the side of his suit's leg. She'd taken refuge beneath him.

Duo glanced towards where Quatre and Trowa were holding their own, still –barely- and with a glower turned his attention back to the chick. He couldn't fight properly with her running around, getting in the way-

When he spotted her again, his jaw dropped, dark eyes going wide. She'd managed to sneak up alongside one of the small beam cannons, right at the base where the cannon couldn't shoot her. And, he noted, she'd picked the one spot where no other cannons could fire her off it, either. And as he watched, knelt, the end of her long golden braid brushing the ground as she took from the pack slung across her shoulders a round metal object that resembled…

She fixed it to the cannon, and took off running, and a moment later the macguyvered mine she had attached to the cannon blew. A moment later, Duo saw the same sparks and smoke emit from the cannon, and it fell silent.

Duo set his scanners going again.

Yes, yes there was, at the very base, where the cannon was connected to a swivel platform allowing the cannon a three-hundred and sixty degree rotation; there was a hairline gap between the two parts, where a well placed spark could wreck havoc with the internal functions…

"So that's the trick," Duo commented to himself, feeling admiration for the insane girl and no little bit of gratitude. "Hey guys! We need to aim for the base! It's the weak spot!"

"We already scanned for weak spots, Duo, nothing came up- not even the base." Quatre nevertheless sounded intrigued.

"We were wrong somehow!" Duo shouted back, swinging around to fire off another volley at another cannon. He took careful aim, care he hadn't been taking before, and surrounded the base with fire. A few moments into his barrage, the thing sparked and died. "Just do it!"

Seeing his success, Heavyarms and Sandrock didn't bother to respond- rather, they aimed their own respective weapons, slicing and firing, at the small annoyances.

The tide turned quickly, and Duo, now that he was watching for her, frequently spotted a blonde braid bouncing between cannons, leaving a trail of dead cannons in her wake.

With the cannons disabled, the rest of the mobile suits were quickly dispatched, and no more were able to be dropped; without the cannons occupying them, they shot the carriers and bombers out of the sky before they could release their payloads.

When the air had cleared for a few brief moments, they quickly assessed their damage, deemed themselves fit –barely- to continue the mission, and made their way to the tower cannon. Duo didn't see the blonde girl again, and he was surprised at the intensity of the twist of worry in his gut. Recklessly, he flipped open a comm. channel, setting it for the broadest, most default frequency.

"Hey, blonde lady- I know you've probably got some kind of communications device on ya, and I just wanted to say thanks. And by the way, nice braid." He flicked off the channel, fully expecting Trowa to calmly demand an explanation, but not expecting an unidentified transmission awakening his interior speakers.

"No problem. We braided ones have to stick together, don't we? Take care." And then the channel was closed. Duo threw his head back and laughed, feeling his old anticipation for the battle ahead filter back in.

"Duo." Trowa's voice came through.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll explain it later, but for now can we just take out that stupid tower? I need a shower so bad…"

But it wasn't a shower he was thinking about when at last the tower burned and crumbled, rather it was a braid very similar to his own, only in hues of honey and gold.

Eight Years Later

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"Venti Green Tea Frappachino, please," she ordered, handing the man behind the counter her card while her friend ordered a Thai tea.

Duo, realizing what came next, listened more acutely, his curiosity perked…

"Name?" Asked the high school aged cashier.

"Kitty," she responded. "Or just Kit."

He swipped the card, frowned. "Sorry, ma'am, says the card's invalid…"

"Hm, I was afraid of that," 'Kitty' responded, annoyed. "The cashier at the store earlier today set my card down on the demagnetizing thing when I didn't take it from her quick enough. Oh, well. Here, I've got cash-"

Before she could pull out the bills, though, a twenty had been laid on the counter. The had that had put it there was attached to an arm that was reaching over her shoulder- not a difficult feat, Duo thought with a smirk. She barely came up to his shoulder…

She turned, surprise and thanks etched clearly on her face. "Hey, thanks-" The words were out of her mouth before she'd taken a step back and gotten a decent look at his face. This reaction had ceased to phase Duo years ago; since the day the Gundam Pilot's faces had been made publicly known, he'd dealt with it, loved even it even at times. But the look on her face now wasn't one that would be given by an admirer, or a fan, or someone struck at the idea of standing in front of a celebrity and hero. Duo couldn't quite pinpoint what the look meant.

He smiled at her, broad and genuine. "No problem," he told her with a conspirtal wink. He decided, suddenly, that he wanted to figure out what that look meant. "We braided ones have to stick together, don't we?"

To Be Continued…?

Probably not, but you guys tell me.

-Amber Penglass


End file.
